Forging A New Life
by WakeFlames
Summary: An account from Vidanric the Marquis of Shevraeth's point of view of the events following the end of Crown Duel. May include other characters' points of view later. UPDATE JANUARY 8: CHAPTER 2 IS HERE!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The characters and places, and the plot in this chapter, are all the creations of the amazing Sherwood Smith. I'm just portraying them through my own words, for my own (and hopefully others') enjoyment.

Author's note: Please REVIEW, this is my first try at a fanfiction! Any comments are welcome, and very helpful. Thanks for reading!

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**Prologue**

I, Vidanric, Marquis of Shevraeth and next in line for the throne of Remalna, was for once at a loss to know what to do. And it was just my luck that it had to be the one moment in my life so far where a swift decision was vital.

I stood before the dais of the great throne room of the palace in the city of Athanarel, my rapier drawn, watching in helpless fear and anger as my own cousin held a knife to the throat of a young woman known as Meliara Astiar, Countess of Tlanth. I mentally kicked myself. I had known Flauvic to be a threat. I should have been better prepared both for the discovery that he truly was plotting for the throne and the confirmation of my suspicions that he was a sorcerer. But my mind was frozen in panic, and the only thing I could think was _What if Flauvic moves his hand...?_ If Mel was hurt- I didn't want to think about what I would do if that happened. My only reassurance was that she seemed to be holding her own; even as my stomach lurched in terror for her safety, I admired the courage with which she faced having a blade brandished under her chin. Meliara was a picture of perfect fury despite her small form, and looked as though she was mostly vexed by the fact that she wasn't able to make a good threat of her own against her attacker.

The same unflinching glare that she now gave my cousin was exactly what I had first found fascinating about Meliara. She faced every impossible danger with determination and courage. My interest in the fiery countess had slowly grown over the course of the past year until I realized, somewhat to my own surprise, that I was entirely and completely in love. And it was only within the past day that I had finally professed my love openly, learning for certain that Meliara shared that love.

But now that newly discovered happiness threatened to shatter. I thought bitterly that we would likely be literally shattered, just like the unfortunate Duke of Grumareth's frozen form had been brutally smashed earlier. My cousin's sorcery had included the transformation of all the people of the city into statues, and he had presented me with a cruel choice: help to instate him as ruler –_Condemning the people to his tyranny!_– or condemn the entire court to the same ugly fate as Grumareth, if I tried to resist. How could I, or any decent person, make that terrible choice?

The necessity for that decision had been delayed; only moments ago, Flauvic's moment of gloating triumph had been interrupted. Outside the great doors of the throne room, the Hill Folk had appeared suddenly by the hundreds, triggering my cousin's present treatment of Meliara.

"Tell them to vanish," he snarled. "Or she dies."

Mel managed to yell, "Don't do it–" before she was silenced by Flauvic's arm. I was intensely aware of the glint of metal held so close to her neck. I stalked slowly toward them, my mind desperately racing to find a way to protect Meliara.

It was then I noticed that the air in the throne room had begun to change. Though I did not grow up knowing the strange people as Mel had, I recognized the Hill Folk magic at once. The air was thick with power, shimmering like water. The deep drums of the Hill Folk began a steady rhythm.

"Tell them _now_!" Flauvic's voice cracked with something like panic as he yelled.

My breath caught in my throat as Flauvic jerked his hold on Mel. But then he gave a strangled cry and released his hold on her completely. She toppled forward onto her hands and knees in front of the throne, and I rushed forward an instant later to lift her off of the floor. I looked up through the shimmering air to see that Flauvic's shape was oddly distorted. He threw his arms up and spoke strange words. Green light appeared between his hands and he flung it toward us- I tightened my arms around Mel, expecting the worst. But the spell evaporated into the air before ever reaching us.

Flauvic had his head thrown back, and his body seemed to lengthen upward. The drumbeat built into rumbling thunder that filled the room. Suddenly there was a great cracking sound like splitting wood, and Flauvic's stretching and twisting form was obscured in blinding light. The floor shook, and debris rained from the ceiling. I shielded Mel as best I could, holding her (I can admit in retrospect) as much for my own comfort as hers.

Abruptly the thundering stopped, and the light faded. For a moment the world was frozen in silence. As my vision slowly cleared, I stared in weary shock at the great goldenwood tree that now stood rooted in the dais where Flauvic had been, its branches reaching out through the roof.

_Remalna was safe._

As the realization finally reached my sluggish thoughts, my breath returned with a shuddering sigh of relief. I had hardly noticed that I was holding it. _Meliara!_ I pulled her close and was suddenly flooded with an irrepressible joy. Remalna was safe, and Meliara was in my arms. I kissed her hair and was rewarded to feel her smile against my chest. _Oh Mel I love you_. I lost myself in kissing her upturned face wherever I could, until our lips finally met and locked in giddy reunion.

I kept kissing her until with a gasp we both had to come up for air. When I looked at Mel I saw the same wry smile of regret that I knew showed on my own face. She had wanted that kiss to stop as little as I had. A noise at the doorway made us both turn, and there we saw that the frozen palace guards had been freed. They each took a gasping breath and crumpled to the floor, fast asleep.

"We did it." Mel whispered, leaning forward to rest her forehead on my tunic. "We saved them. Everyone."

I hugged her close, smiling even as I felt a tear roll down my cheek.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Thank You so much to everyone who reviewed—I feel so wonderfully warm and fuzzy inside to have gotten so many on my very first fic! I apologize that this chapter took me so long to finish. I will refrain from making up any excuses for that, however—we're all busy, right? Anyway I hope you like this one. I tried to make it a bit longer to appease the imaginations of all of you, my lovely readers!

I have no guarantees on when the next chapter will be up, but I'm definitely planning on doing more of this story eventually. I'm going on an overseas program (to LONDON! does happy dance ) for the spring semester and I don't know yet whether I will have time to write, but I sure hope so. It's fun to work on!

_Disclaimer: Not mine_—_never was, never will be. Sherwood Smith is the illustrious creator of the characters, places, and most of the plot. I'm just borrowing them for a little while._

Enjoy! (And I'm sure I don't need to say it, but REVIEWS are always appreciated! Tell me if you would like to hear from a different character or not...)

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**Chapter One– Reunions**

It was a full color change before the sleeping city to begin to wake, and by then it was nearly evening. Mel and I placed the sleepers in more comfortable positions when we could, but there was little more we could do for them until they awoke.

We decided to make a brief search of the Merindar house, remembering that there would still be loyal servants willing to destroy any condemning documents. Not that either of us felt we should need a piece of paper to prove our story. Some rather definitive proof was currently branching out through the ceiling of the throne room. But there could be no harm in having that same proof in words. There are skeptics in every government.

A swift perusal of Flauvic's quarters confirmed my suspicion that he had meticulously destroyed any physical evidence of his plot for the throne—if indeed there had ever been any such evidence. But we did find plenty to indicate without question his newly revealed talent in sorcery. Unsurprisingly, he had been absurdly proud of his successful training in Sles Adran, and his library, as well as a number of documents from his time as a page, established his magical occupation beyond doubt.

We returned to the palace as the bells for second-green sounded, and soon found that people were beginning to stir. The first person we saw revive was a footman near the doors of the library. We heard an exclamation of surprise and turned to find a very confused looking servant.

The footman stared at us, horrified at having been discovered sleeping. He opened his mouth to speak, choked, and fell into a fit of coughing and spluttering. I thumped his back until he regained his breath. He looked a bit taken aback at my helping him. I tried to give him what I thought was a reassuring smile, but I wasn't sure it worked, because he looked even more shocked.

I suppose it no more than I should expect for inheriting a kingdom after a tyrant's rule. It is simply a fact that the common folk are accustomed to being treated as inferiors. Especially the servants of the palace. But it does not follow that I should ever feel comfortable treating them as such.

At home in Renselaeus my parents taught me to treat every person with respect despite his rank. But generations of courtiers have been raised to treat servants not as individuals but as tools. Even my respect does not reach past the invisible boundary of class status to allow an interaction of equals between servant and noble. Class rank dictates the social custom.

And while Galdran ruled, no one wanted to attract his attention by changing that established custom, however much it was disliked. No one but Meliara, of course.

It always returns to Mel, does it not? Russav tells me I am a lovesick idiot, but I don't think he is one to talk. He and Tamara's squabbles and sappy reconciliations run the whole palace ragged. But I digress. I will come to that part of the story soon enough.

We quickly explained to the confused footman roughly what the events of the day had been. I told him to go find his family, and take the remainder of the day off duty. Looking relieved, he thanked us and hurried away. We met several more lost looking palace folk on our way through the halls, and soon found ourselves retelling the story so often that we decided to stop telling it altogether.

"We should give a formal account of what happened, don't you think?" Mel was helping a frightened looking maid to her feet. "Not tonight—we need to give people time with their families. But perhaps tomorrow morning."

"By the time they find that tree, everyone will be demanding to know what happened." I said wryly. "We'll have a hard time keeping it from them any longer than tomorrow."

Mel smiled. "Yes, they will be quite curious, won't they?" She sent the maid off with a word of reassurance that she would not be punished for neglecting her duties.

She turned to me with a sigh. "Let's see if Bran and Nee are awake yet."

I nodded. "I should like to find my parents as well, and Russav."

We headed for Bran's rooms in the guest wing, meeting only a few more palace folk awakening in the halls. When Meliara pulled aside the tapestry to Bran's lounge, we found him and his fiancé seated together looking as though sleep had not quite left them. But both exclaimed happily when they saw Mel and rose to greet her.

"Mel! Life, last I checked I was just about to go out for a morning ride, and suddenly I'm–" Bran broke off when he saw me, surprise written plainly on his features. I glanced at Nee in time to catch her smothering a knowing smile.

Of course he had noticed that the present company Mel was keeping meant that she and I were on rather better terms than usual. The usual being that she avoided me altogether.

I greeted them both, carefully keeping my face clear of signs that I had noticed anything unusual in their behavior. I was momentarily surprised at how difficult that suddenly was. I felt like grinning my face off, lovesick that I am. I guess Russav may be right after all, at least about my being lovesick; that I am an idiot is yet to be shown.

Mel gave Bran and Nee each a hug and continued as if nothing had happened, but I could have sworn her cheeks were slightly more tinged with pink.

"We'll explain everything later in more detail." She assured them, "But we've just defeated Flauvic. It turns out he wanted to sit on the golden throne of Remalna himself." She looked at me quickly, a crooked smile turning up one corner of her mouth. "I guess he got what he wanted, in a way." He _was_ on the throne, after all– exactly on the spot where it had stood. But I don't think being a tree rooted there was quite what he had in mind.

Bran gave her a startled look. "What? I thought you said you defeated– or did he get away?"

Mel shook her head in answer to her befuddled brother, laughing softly. "No, he didn't escape. I told you, we'll explain later. Now we thought we'd try to find the Prince and Princess."

"I believe they are in their quarters," Nee said quietly. Her smile was faint, but she still had a gleam in her eye that made me inexplicably nervous. "I came here from visiting your mother, Vidanric, only just before we were—" She paused a moment, and shot a questioning glance at Mel, who only smiled. "...Well, I expect you know more than we do about what truly happened."

I bent my head to her in a small bow. "Apparently Flauvic did study magic during his time at the Nente court. All the people of Athanarel were enchanted into stone." Bran looked aghast at that, and I couldn't help but smile at his expression. "I assure you we will give you the full tale soon. Please excuse the meager explanation for now."

"We thought it would be easier to tell the whole court the story at once." Mel added. Nee nodded in understanding.

Bran finally seemed to gather his wits. "Why don't we come along with you to see the Prince and Princess?" We all agreed, and proceeded toward the Renselaus wing.

Despite the fact that we had declined telling the whole story yet, Bran and Nee could hardly be expected to talk of anything else, and many of their questions were answered as we made our way through the halls. I left Mel to answer most of them, only adding a comment here and there. My mind kept going back to the thought that only a short while ago I had been sick with fear, for Mel's life and for the fate of the country. And now I was strolling through the palace, the love of my life walking beside me and the country free of any immediate threat.

I suppose I was a little hysterical. I wanted to yell with relief and happiness. But I managed to control myself—just barely. I was therefore a touch preoccupied when Russav appeared from around a corner.

"Danric!" He swept us all a look and a smile that managed to greet everyone and question us all at once. I have always been rather proud of my skill in court subtlety, but my suave cousin never seems to have to practice these things– he was always naturally adept. His own court mask is not so emotionless as my own; one could say he uses instead a mask made up of new emotions.

I shook myself out of my uncharacteristically vagrant train of thought, mentally reprimanding myself. In spite of our skills in court concealment, we can each read the other like a book. That is the curse and blessing of relatives, I suppose.

"Russav." I clasped my cousin's hand in greeting, and smiled in return.

"What in the world happened around here? One minute I'm conversing with friends and the next I find myself waking up on the floor." He gave a theatrical wave of his arm to accompany his speech.

Bran laughed out loud. "Not to worry Russav, it isn't the result of last night's revelries!"

"Well, I should hope not. I pride myself on my ability to survive an evening of carousing with my wits about me." A skill which he actually achieved with great success, much to his flocking admirers' great chagrin.

"You shall be happy to know, cousin, that the cause of your lapse in consciousness was far from being such a travesty." I spoke in my best drawl to match Russav's flamboyant foppishness with my own. "Flauvic, it seems, took the Merindar plot into his own hands. He made a spirited attempt to replace Galdran's brainless tyrant with an indubitably nastier, cleverer, magically trained one."

"Blast! So you were right about thinking he was a sorcerer after all." I nodded assent. "Does this mean I missed all the excitement, then?"

"I'm afraid so, Russav." Nee patted his arm consolingly. "But I'm sure there is plenty of work left to do, if you are so anxious for your own share."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to cause Danric to have to sign papers for hours in order to assign me a task." He grinned rather impishly at me.

I raised an ironic brow at my wayward relation. "Leave it to you to escape work and make it sound like a favor, Russav."

He merely bowed, smiling serenely.

Mel had observed all this with a grin on her face. "Well, would you prefer instead to join us in our walk? We were on our way to see Vidanric's parents."

Russav's eyes widened for an instant at hearing Mel use my name, but his face immediately lit with a brilliant—if a trifle gleeful—smile. He bowed low over Mel's hand. "I should be delighted to join you." He eyed me askance, the same knowing look in his eyes as Nee had worn. I wondered how many times I would see that look before the day was over.

As we continued on our way, I realized belatedly that the rooms Russav had been exiting were none other than the Lady Tamara's. I resolved to ask him about _that_ later.

We reached my parent's quarters at last. My father was seated at the parlor table, and my mother was speaking to a sleepy maid. The fresh smell of listerblossom rose from a tea tray. Both my parents smiled as we all entered.

"Vidanric!" My mother couldn't disguise the relief in her eyes, though all else about her was the familiar composure. "—It seems we will need some more tea, please, and then you are free to go." She turned from the retreating maid and surveyed the group. "Please sit down, all of you."

I stepped forward to kiss my mother's cheek, and clasp my father's hand. Though neither showed it in their faces, the look in both their eyes told me they guessed most of what had happened.

It was Mel who explained, as the tea was passed around. "Flauvic made a try for the throne on his own, and turned everyone to stone. The Hill Folk intervened, and broke the spell."

"So Flauvic did study magic in Nente." My father was as calm and collected as ever, but to my eyes he looked weary.

"Yes," Mel replied. "Though I'm guessing you know more about that than I do."

"Thankfully Flauvic didn't study anything the Hill Folk couldn't counter," I added.

My father raised an eyebrow slightly, glancing at me. "That must have been a delightful scene."

"Indeed." I took a sip of tea, noticing how tired I really was as the warmth rushed down my throat. "It was thanks to Lady Meliara that the Hill Folk were alive and well to help us." Mel looked across at me with those wide blue eyes, a smile playing on her lips. If anyone had asked me to remember my own name then I don't think I would have been able to answer.

"Why then, we owe you our gratitude." My mother said to Mel.

Mel shook her head. "_I_ didn't do anything, except nearly get myself killed. Just thank the Hill Folk."

"I will every day." Said Nee, "but you're the one who brought them here to thank."

My father raised his teacup in salute. "Thanks indeed then to Lady Meliara. But I must admit I'd like to hear this story from the beginning."

I knew that my parents wouldn't let me leave until they got a full explanation. Though I thought wistfully of my bed in the royal wing, it was not until the middle of second-blue that all questions were answered, and we made our farewells for the night.

I walked with Mel, Nee and Bran back to the Residence, leaving Russav halfway—again suspiciously near Tamara's rooms, I thought with a smile. Bran and Nee said goodnight at Bran's quarters, leaving Mel and I alone once again. We began our way slowly toward her rooms.

Both of us said nothing as we walked, simply enjoying the silence after the busy conversation of the day. But too soon we arrived at her door. We stopped slowly, and she turned to face me. It was time for us to part for the night as well.

For a moment we simply stood gazing at one another, the newly risen moon shining through a long window in the hallway. The light gave Mel's hair an otherworldly glow—I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat.

But I'm _sure_ it stopped altogether when next she moved close and reached up to press her lips to mine in a lingering kiss.

When we finally broke apart, she whispered, her breath warm on my face, "Goodnight, Vidanric." She smiled, then whirled and slipped away.

I couldn't have masked the grin I wore all the way back to my rooms, all my aches forgotten. I was still grinning as I went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Life, it has been far too long since I was here last!

This one was fun to write, even though it has been so very long in coming. (I always hate it when authors update once a year or so. And here I go doing exactly that.) I wonder if anyone is still reading? If you are, reassure me and review! I made it nice and long just for all of you.

Question for my readers: Would you like to hear from Mel's point of view, or do you want me to stay with Vidanric? Either way, the next chapter is in the works. . . and I promise there will be more fluffy stuff.

_Disclaimer: As always, I owe it all to Sherwood Smith. I hope I haven't mangled her creation too much with my dabbling._

I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season. Happy 2007!

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**Chapter Two— Questions**

"Vidanric. Oh cousin dearest. . ."

A hand shook my shoulder, jolting me out of the calm darkness of sleep. I fought my way through a fog of thoughts, vaguely recognizing the voice as Russav's.

"Danric, wake up!"

I opened my eyes to early dawn light and my cousin's face peering down at me. He rolled his eyes.

I groaned, and pulled the blanket over my head.

Muffled, I heard an exasperated, "Dan-ric. . . !" before the blanket was unceremoniously snatched off of me. The cold air hit my bare skin with a shock, and I curled up into a ball in protest. But I was certainly awake, now.

Just to make sure he knew I wasn't giving up, I opened my eyes again and gave my cousin the best glare I could muster, under the circumstances.

"What is it, Russav?"

He tossed the stolen blanket onto the foot of my bed, conveniently missing my freezing feet by a few inches. He grinned back innocently at my deepened scowl. Then he aimed an accusing finger at me. "You have some explaining to do, dear cousin."

Unfortunately I knew exactly what he meant by that.

Ignoring Russav's extremely pointed look, I sat up with a yawn, my muscles protesting every movement. The previous day had taken more toll than I expected. Though nothing _expected_ seemed to be happening recently, so I shouldn't be surprised.

"Don't ignore me, Danric." Russav crossed his arms over his chest and stared me down, a smile still twitching on his lips. "I could see the way you were looking at your dear little countess yesterday! Something's different between you two. Finally," he added as an afterthought.

"She's not _my_ countess," I protested weakly. Despite myself I felt the heat rising to my face. I suddenly noticed I was avoiding looking my cousin in the eye. Life! I was acting like a moody child.

He rolled his eyes at me again. "Oh stop it. Tell me what happened!" Were all cousins made to torment like Russav?

"Well, I—Can I get some coffee?" Why was I avoiding the question? There wasn't anything that I could keep from Russav for long, so why was it so hard to speak? He wasn't going to let up until I did, I knew.

"No, Danric, you can't. Not until you tell me something." Right on cue.

I swung my legs out of the bed. I looked up at Russav, who looked back unrepentantly. No, I wasn't going to get out of this one.

"I—I told her I had written the anonymous letters." Stuttering! I was stuttering!

". . . And?"

"And I showed her that I was wearing the ring she sent me." No stutters that time. Better.

"Life! Vidanric, you idiot, would you please just—Agh!" He threw up his hands with a dramatic, wordless exclamation.

I felt a bit light-headed. I took a deep breath. "Look, you're not making this any easier." I tried to ignore the warmth behind my ears.

He looked at me open-mouthed for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

I glared at him. It helped steady me a bit. "Russav, please!" He was doubled over, cackling at me.

"Oh—" He wiped his eyes. "It's just—the Marquis with the perfect stone-face court mask just—I think your mask just melted!" He fell to laughing again.

This was such an odd morning. "If you're going to laugh at me the whole time, I won't say anything. . ." I got up and went to the wash basin that was on a stand in the corner of the room.

"Okay—" Chuckle. "Okay. I'll stop." Snicker. "Really, I promise." I raised my eyebrows at him, but said nothing, busying myself splashing my face with water. I was infinitely glad for the coolness of it on my burning cheeks.

My oh-so-hilarious cousin took a breath and sat down on a cushion at the edge of my bed, his eyes still bright with laughter. "Alright. At least tell me how she reacted." When I didn't answer, he added, "You kissed her, didn't you?"

That caught me so off guard that I dropped the towel I was holding into the basin, which made a soft _splat_, and the spray formed a wet ring on the floor (and my feet) beneath the wash stand.

Of course this only set off the laughter again.

Life, what was wrong with me?

"I knew it!" He crowed at me. By this point I had decided to ignore him—again—and begin to get dressed for the day.

"Well, how did it go? Was Meliara—amiable—toward your advances?" The grin on his face threatened to stretch past his ears.

I finished pulling on a dark tunic, and absently picked up my riding boots as I tried to think of a suitable response to that. "If you mean 'Did she _not_ try to injure or kill me,' then yes."

"Aha! So she kissed you back, too."

He had a superiorly smug expression on his face. I contemplated throwing a boot at him. I resisted the impulse—barely. "Russav, you are far too annoying for your own good."

"I know." He clapped me on the shoulder, smiling. "What would you ever do without me?"

"I might get more sleep, anyway," I grumbled. But we both laughed.

"So—how was it?"

I swung a boot at him, and he ducked it and ran out, laughing.

I realized I had completely forgotten to ask him about Tamara.

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After chasing Russav off, I made my way to the study in the library. My parents had agreed that a public review of the past few days' events should be made in court today, and I needed to prepare. Though the Merindar threat was finally and truly gone, the conflict had been brewing silently over the past months, and its eruption came as a shock to many. The information gathered so carefully for years needed to be shared at last.

I had vowed to myself from the first that I would never govern a kingdom through secrecy and spies, as was Galdran's way. I had been taught the necessity of good sources of information in government, but that did not mean spying on our own people. I had seen all too clearly how it destroyed the structure of the country, isolating people through fear and distrust.

I arrived in the study room to find a tray of steaming coffee waiting for me on the desk. The first sip was glorious warmth to my still sluggish brain, and I thanked the stars for my manservant, who knew me all too well. I took another steadying mouthful, and as the bells for first gold rang out in the distance, I set to work.

Second gold had come and gone, and my stomach was beginning to mutter to me in earnest about food being necessary to life when I heard the soft brush of fabric as the tapestry opened. I looked up into a familiar pair of bright, wide set blue eyes.

The expression those eyes wore, however, was not quite so familiar: my breath caught at their warmth, directed so clearly at _me_. So often that gaze had been one of fiery anger and dislike when I was the subject it fell upon. Though it was no less beautiful then.

"I knew you would be here. Did you know the entire palace is asking for you?" As she spoke, Mel crossed the room and circled the low writing table to sit on a cushion beside me. I set down the paper I had been reading with no small amount of relief at being thus pleasantly interrupted.

"That is precisely why I will remain here as long as I possibly can," I answered lightly. The moment I reappeared in the palace halls I knew I would be swamped in demands for answers to so many questions.

She grinned. "Mind if I join you in evading the court, Lord Vidanric?"

I gave her a mock half-bow from where I sat. "On this very fine morning, I should be delighted to have your company in such an endeavor, Lady Meliara."

She gave a soft laugh, her eyes dancing. "Well then. I will. What are you working on?"

"What part of the story would you like the privilege of telling the court today?" Her eyebrows went up at the dryness of my tone. I gave her a wry smile and pushed the mountain of letters on the desk toward her. "I've been reading through these. Tell me which you think are the most obvious proof of Flauvic's study of sorcery. I'd rather such proof wasn't needed, but it may be necessary."

She eyed the tower of papers with distaste. "I had a sinking feeling I was going to have to read all these when we found them in the Merindar house yesterday . . . Let me see." She picked up the first letter.

Beautiful Mel. I was distracted by the way she bit her lip as she began to read. _Focus, Vidanric!_

But how can one possibly focus on anything else when one is in love?

". . . this one about ordering some books?"

I belatedly realized she had been asking me a question. I pulled my thoughts together with an effort.

"Yes. That one did mention a spell and an instance of its use, in an experiment I believe?"

She nodded. "There's another here somewhere addressed to the King in Sles Adran . . ." She shuffled through the pile to extract a particularly ornate letter with a heavy golden wax seal. "Ah. And here's our dear Flauvic's reply."

Mel's lashes fell so very softly as she blinked. I forced my eyes down to the letter as she handed it to me.

Flauvic's vanity had certainly not been held back in the writing of it. There was a border of embossed gold depicting birds twisting and weaving together in flight.

I scanned over the neatly ordered handwriting. "Flauvic could never resist giving a show, could he?"

Mel shook her head in agreement, but she seemed preoccupied. Before I could ask why, she gave a sigh, and leaned back to prop herself on her elbows.

"Don't you wish we didn't have to explain things?" She grimaced. "In front of everyone."

My heart gave a painful leap, and my errant thoughts rushed to a hundred fears and questions; foremost, would Mel be unhappy if she consented to become Queen? But I pushed the worries away and tried to muster as much calm as I could before I spoke.

"I believe it would be better for them all to hear of your part in the story in your own words." I kept my voice even. "But there is hardly a law against it if you do not wish to address the court."

Her brows drew together for a moment—making my heart leap again—but suddenly she rolled her eyes. "Yes there is. The law in my own brain that says I am stupid to be afraid of facing a crowd after all I have done." She gave a self-mocking laugh. "I don't know why I care what people think of me."

It was an effort not to let my inner turmoil show. _Stop being foolish, Vidanric!_

"I have reason to believe you will be greeted as a hero," I said smoothly.

She sighed again. "That's what I'm afraid of."

I swallowed carefully, and went for lightness. "I am convinced you will dazzle all with your feats of bravery and wit."

She laughed briefly. "Right, and a hundred new ballads will be sung about the countess with the broken foot, who nearly got a lot of people killed."

"Actually, I believe there are already a few ballads about that . . ." She arched an eyebrow at me, and I couldn't help but smile at her.

"I would offer to ban all the writing of ballads containing your name, but I don't think it can be avoided. Russav, for one, would only be encouraged." She laughed more heartily this time, and though I could still see the tension in her face, it was far less.

"Well, we mustn't encourage him, then." She looked down at the papers on the table, and then looked at me. "Do you suppose we should go prepare for court, now?"

"We probably should," I said, thinking of the long session of questioning to come. My reluctance must have shown more than I thought, because the corners of her mouth quirked.

It was at that moment my deprived stomach chose to give a loud rumble. Mel's smile grew even wider.

"Have you been avoiding the kitchen, too?" She said.

I laughed at that. "The better question is, who _haven't_ I avoided today."

"Who haven't you?"

"You," I said softly. I took her hand and kissed it, and the expression on her face made my breath catch in my throat. I thought distractedly that my breath seemed to be doing that often, lately.

I forced myself to let my breath out slowly. Mel had not broken her gaze from mine. I opened my mouth to speak, unsure of what I was even going to say, and then halted when she lifted a hand to my lips.

She looked at me seriously for a moment. "Vidanric," she said, suddenly urgent, "I have to tell you something—"

A tapping outside the tapestry caused both our heads to turn, and Mel dropped her hand.

"Come in," I said.

A messenger stepped quickly though the doorway. "The Prince and Princess are asking for you, sir," He said. "They are in the lesser council chamber adjoining the court."

"Thank you. I will be there in a moment." He gave a short bow, and left.

I looked back at Mel, and she gave me a small smile. "Just think of it as a battle," she said. "With vast numbers of ravening minions for you to begin mowing down as you step into the court. . ."

I laughed, remembering when I had used the same words when Mel had first returned to Athanarel, at Russav's ball. "Hopefully my parents have not been captured by them already." We both stood. "We should go," I said without moving.

"I know." She looked as though she was going to say something else, then shook her head slightly. She picked up the letters we had selected from the pile. "Shall we, then?"


End file.
